Ash Seekth Embers
by Beckon
Summary: Fahrenheit's hands grasped at Glory's biceps, feeling them strong, flexing underneath her palms- feeling Glory's stronger grip against her own forearms. Fingertips pressed against former bullet wounds, still pink and red in infancy; fingers curled against them, still unable to let them go.


It had been weeks now since the Institute kicked the big robotic bucket and blew forty feet into the sky.

Weeks since its destruction had leveled the city area surrounding it, reducing it to charcoal and ash- a mere shadow of its former destroyed beauty.

Weeks since the smell of dust and smoke seemed to cover the Commonwealth entirely, coating everyone in the ashen remains of the boogeyman.

It had been weeks, and yet there were still people drinking themselves merry at the constant reminder that the boogeyman was gone- and that they could pass out in the streets without worry that a man in a black suit might whisk them away. The missing presence of the Institute did little to deter the threat of being stabbed, or robbed while unconscious, but somehow those actions no longer seemed like such big things to worry about.

It was a mess Fahrenheit was constantly dealing with as she found herself dragging blacked-out drunks off the streets more often than she'd like. Goodneighbor always had that problem, and she was never one to deal with it unless theft or murder was involved; everyone fended for themselves here. But with the increase of people passing out in the streets, she just didn't want to be the one who had to count and collect bodies the next morning.

And if that meant having to routinely check on someone throughout the night to make sure they didn't choke on their own vomit, than so be it. She never really cared before, always insisting that it was their own fault if such occurred, but as of lately, with everyone in such high spirits, it was the least she could do short of celebrating. Short of drinking herself blind like the rest of them.

Hancock held the first celebration the very day of the Institute eruption, and that alone had lasted four days on it own- not to mention, it nearly emptied the Third Rail of it's booze entirely. The ghoul mayor himself had to dip into his own personal stash that he kept off of city grounds to keep Whitechapel Charlie supplied long enough to outlast the drinking.

Magnolia had certainly enjoyed the attention of it all though- the singer had even allowed a few people on stage to sing with her. And despite her persistent insistence, Fahrenheit never joined the woman on-stage.

It took days for things to trickle back to normal, and even then, it wasn't completely the same- and it still wasn't to some degree now. But it was normal enough for Fahrenheit to see the extra activity that was sneaking its way through the city doors, rotating around in the streets under the cover of drunk patrons. To anyone who didn't know what to look for, there was nothing to be seen, nothing more than the usual people hanging around.

But Fahrenheit knew what to look for, she knew what she was looking at when she saw it.

And it was hard not to notice the influx of Railroad agents walking in through the doors of Goodneighbor, only to duck out a few hours later. They weren't strangers to the taboo city, which was oddly enough to safest place for them to operate, but their increased activity now and days gave rise to what was going on with the underground faction.

The Railroad was working itself overtime with having to gather the Synths who had been scattered haphazardly across the Commonwealth during the Institute evacuation. With no real experience in dealing with the Commonwealth, the synthetic beings were easy targets to anyone and anything looking for an easy victim; which, in the grand scheme of this place, nearly everyone and everything could be labeled as a hazard, as a threat.

Hence why there were so many Railroad Heavies passing through the city- either for sleep or supplies.

(Hence why Fahrenheit had yet to see Glory now in a couple days- maybe closer to two weeks now).

From her balcony place overlooking Goodneighbor, Fahrenheit was able to keep an easy track on the Railroad business operating under her nose. Every agent blended in all too well with the Goodneighbor crowd, but she had been around long enough to spot who the new fish in this drug-polluted ocean was.

After all, not a lot of people here visited the Memory Den all that often, and those who did usually preferred to speak with Irma at the front couch. Hardly anyone ever asked for Dr. Amari stationed in the basement. But the Railroad agents knew who to ask for, who to go to, every time they brought a new friend with them into the city. And it only took a few hours for the agent and friend to re-emerge- their friend always dressed and acting differently from how they walked in. Always acting a little more comfortable, a little more normal around the crowds. Well, not always, but most of the time.

All for the greater good Fahrenheit had been told.

And whether or not she believed such to be the case it wasn't any of her damn business.

That wasn't always the case though.

Sometimes the Railroad was her business.

But the work was usually more in the art of keeping track of every agent who dragged their feet to the Hotel Rexford, and barely made it to their rooms before they passed out. Overworked and exhausted, but eager to leave and continue with their work again by daybreak. The ability to work out in public without the fear of the Institute on their backs seemed to have given every agent a new outlook on their job. For once, a little more life could be seen in their tired eyes, in their mumbled words as they collapsed into half-flattened pillows.

Fahrenheit kept a close eye on the agents who seemed too incoherent from exhaustion, or booze, to know where they were going, or what they were doing. She ensured that no one tried to screw with them during their temporary stays at the Rexford.

Hell, she had even bought a few of the agents some much needed booze, and loosely chatted with them in the Third Rail to take the weight off their shoulders. She made sure to keep her knowledge of their affairs out of the conversation though, choosing instead to play incognito when the subject came up. It was easier to do so, although the Railroad business was hardly much of a secret at this point.

Several times now she had had to haul a few agents up to their room after one too many drinks. Sometimes she had Ham help her if there were multiple Railroad agents involved.

It wasn't in her job description to do, but she would be damned if she left them to be terrorized and victimized by White Chapel Charlie.

(The last time Glory had swung by the woman teased her and called her an honorary member of the Railroad- something Fahrenheit quickly denied).

In the recent days however, when business and action was slow, Fahrenheit busied herself with keeping a tighter eye on the perimeter around Goodneighbor; she wanted to ensure that all occupants, inside and outside, were kept safe. That much was her actual job to do around here, especially when Hancock was away for business. She was the one who orchestrated the guards, and kept them in line- although making sure they were always in shape for a fight was damn impossible.

The Super Mutants that she and Glory had put down before had yet to be replaced, and so far no one else had moved in to claim the vacancy, which was good. It just meant that there were less bullets spend now and days, and the expansion of Goodneighbor's walls was up for discussion again.

The scorch marks on the asphalt were still visible though.

They reminded Fahrenheit of the four days spent breathing in burnt, rotting Super Mutant skin.

Four days spent ignoring the rancid odor that put a few people in the spare rooms- too sick to be outside.

It was with the knowledge of the Railroad, the knowledge of their work, and the minimum knowledge of the Institute that had Fahrenheit eyeing the two women standing close to the corner street just outside of the city walls.

She had caught sight of them about half an hour before, and had spent the time studying them, watching them try to navigate the rough terrain.

There wasn't much that she could spot from a distance, but she pulled out the key components that she needed. One of the women was dark-skinned while the other was a pale white. They were both wearing what Fahrenheit could only presume were Institute uniforms; they weren't of any kind of fashion that she had witnessed before at least. Even from a distance, the uniforms look horrifically out of place given their surroundings. The top portion of the white jumpsuits had been pulled down on both women, and the sleeves were tied around their waists- exposing the thin, sleeveless shirts underneath.

What might've once been pristine-looking uniforms were now covered in dirt, and a little on the ragged side now.

Evidence of a short, new life in the Commonwealth.

Evidence especially given since neither of the women had noticed Fahrenheit observing them just yet- a fatal mistake anywhere you went. The lack of proper checking of one's environment was a big give away, although she had to give the women credit where it was deserved; the two stood near back to back for the time being, covering a near one-eighty radius around them. While they seemed to be unable to see the small things, the two would easily be able to see something big coming for them. And that alone gave hint to just how long they might've been hanging around the Commonwealth.

"You two lost?" Fahrenheit called, keeping her position in the open street as her fingers toyed with the half-smoked cigarette on her lips. She needed to play a part, needed to leave herself open and exposed- needed to look trustworthy from the get go. You get too rough with a lost Synth, and they lose trust all too easily.

She just didn't want these two darting off into danger.

Her question was enough to draw the women's attention to her now.

As well as draw the attention of a gun.

Not exactly a smart move to do, especially on Fahrenheit, but... it meant that the two had been quick to learn not to trust anyone. Which was an important step to take. And while they might not pull the trigger, sometimes the sight of a gun was enough to scare someone- not all the time, but certainly worth trying. And who knew, maybe these two did have experience with pulling the trigger before- maybe she was writing them off too quickly.

"What's it to you?" the darker-skinned woman replied, eyeing Fahrenheit several times over despite the distance between them. It was evident that the woman was still new to this, to handling a gun and aiming it at someone else, but she seemed to be handling it well enough. At least, better than most of the Synths from what the rumors Fahrenheit had overheard would say. "We were supposed to meet someone here- or at least around here."

The woman still had a lot left to learn about the Commonwealth though.

Giving away too much information to the wrong person was suicidal.

"It's dangerous out here," Fahrenheit continued, before she nodded to the wall behind her. "Get inside. The city's safe."

The woman with the gun looked to the colorfully lit door, which happily displayed the name of the city in neon lights. Not exactly subtle, but Hancock wanted people to know where it was, and what the city was about. Fahrenheit always thought it was tacky, and would attract too much trouble- something that she had yet to be proven wrong on.

"Goodneighbor?" the woman questioned, before she turned her attention back to Fahrenheit. "Names can be misleading, you know."

"Yeah, well you're not too far off," Fahrenheit spoke, taking one last drag before she tossed her cigarette aside. "Look, I know you're both Synths from the Institute, and I know that the woman you're waiting for is part of the Railroad." The women seemed surprised at her knowledge of the matter, and nervously shot glances towards one another. "It's safe inside. No one's going to hurt you- and the woman you're looking for will be here soon. She'll know where to find you."

Fahrenheit didn't think the two would give her much trust, but it wasn't like they had any other options.

Night was already approaching, and without proper shelter, someone or something could easily devour them in the darkness.

At the very least, they had an invitation to come inside.

"Okay, we'll go inside, but don't try anything."

"Don't worry, I'm not even armed," Fahrenheit loosely assured, raising her hands to reveal them both to be empty; she didn't even drag Ash Maker out here- mostly because she didn't feel like lugging it around. After spending most of the week lifting people out of chairs, or off the floor, she wasn't looking to carry around any unnecessary weight unless it was unavoidable.

For now, she was unarmed, and inviting- and she knew who and what they were.

It was enough to garner some trust in her favor.

With little else to believe, and with some reluctance, the two women decided to follow after her.

Fahrenheit lead the two inside of the walls and towards the State House, glad that Hancock was out of office for the day- and that there weren't any drunks currently passed out in the street for the time being. The Synths were smart, and had already figured that the name Goodneighbor was misleading; Fahrenheit didn't need them to know to just what extent that was though, not now at least.

They wouldn't be staying long so any illusion would help.

She held the door open for the two, and made sure to close it tight behind them, which only seemed to garner some nerves from the women; the dark-skinned one had put her gun away for the time being, but fingers were twitching to grab at it again. Fahrenheit knew the woman wouldn't risk it though- the two were too far in right now, and with uncertainty in front of them, any wrong move could mean death.

Fahrenheit made her way up the winding staircase to the top floor, loosely gesturing for the women to continue following her- eventually taking them to the open lobby where she spent most of her time at. Usually either drinking, or working on Ash Maker.

"Make yourself at home," Fahrenheit offered, as she held close to the doorframe to allow the two to look the place over. Despite their obvious nerves, the two couldn't seem to resist the offer, and immediately began taking in every little shoddy detail there was to the place. She watched as the women slowly stepped around the room, never venturing too far from the other as they circled the small lobby-space.

They eventually seemed content with the new surroundings, and moved to seat themselves on one of the semi-presentable couches.

They sat close enough to touch hips with one another.

Fahrenheit was good at reading body language, at reading faces, but in the dim light of the room there was something about the two that caught her off-guard. They both shared eerily similar facial features- namely the jaw, the cheeks, and the nose, but even the shape of their eyes were matching.

It didn't help that they seemed to move in near perfect sync with one another as well.

Copying one another's actions down to the subtle head turn at the sound of muffled shouting outside.

Fahrenheit moved away from the open doorway and grabbed some of the bottled water from the sink- freshly filled from the filtration tap outside. She loosely shook them of excessive water, before she stepped around the couch- tossing one bottle into each of the women's laps.

If there was one thing Hancock was good at, it was hospitality.

Such things weren't her strong suit, but she figured she could pass for a decent enough host.

Fahrenheit focused on crucial needs- every person, human or Synth, needed water after all.

Hancock preferred entertainment.

"Thank you," the two women spoke in unison.

And just like that, they were both twisting the bottle top off, and taking a sip- even drinking for matching durations.

They even wiped their lips off on the backs of their hands when they were done.

"Alright, so, what's with the faces?" Fahrenheit questioned as she seated herself on the couch opposite of them- preferring to keep the wide angle view she had on the room. Subtlety wasn't exactly her strong suit either.

The two women touched one hand to their cheek, before they looked at the other- holding the moment for only a few seconds before they broke out into shared giggles.

"An accident in the Synthetic facial programming," the lighter of the two answered. "For each Synth created, a different face is randomly structured so that we might all carry different facial constructions. Similarities between two Synths rarely occurred, and was usually faulted as being an error in the system. Sometimes a whole new reconstruction was necessary."

"We were created at the same time, and a small glitch in the computer programming ended up giving us the same face- although different skin tones entirely," the other woman spoke. "The Institute Scientists were more amused than angry by the mix up, although they did halt the Synthetic creation for a few hours for maintenance, but they decided to let us keep the faces to see what might come from it."

"We consider each other sisters," the first woman smiled.

"Twins."

Fahrenheit nodded as her fingers rooted through her pockets for another cigarette; she was surprised to find herself rather amused by the story. She knew of the Institute, and knew some details, but most of what the two had said went a bit over her head. "You two got names?"

"R7-" the white one started once more, only to stop herself in mid-identification; there was a brief hiccup before she continued on with a smile. "Laura."

"Monet," the other answered. "We found the names in a magazine one of the Coursers once snuck back for us."

"What about you?" the woman now known as Laura questioned.

Plucking a loose cigarette from her pocket, Fahrenheit set it between her lips, and drew her lighter next- carefully lighting the smoke behind cupped palms. She took in the first drag slow, and steady, tasting how the nicotine tasted sweet in her mouth, before she gave out smoke, spilling white clouds from her lips- making her answer seem all the more appropriate.

"Fahrenheit."

"Fahrenheit?" Laura both questioned, and repeated. "Like the arcane temperature unit? Did you choose that name for yourself as well?"

"And why?" Monet finished.

Curious things these two were- then again after living their entire life underground, anything would seem entertaining.

It was almost kind of cute.

Most people, those in the wrong anyways, shivered when they heard her name, which was the proper response to it.

And yet, these two practically melted.

(It was almost kind of cute).

"Because I was born in ash and always sought out the fire," Fahrenheit answered, certain that the burning tip at the end of her cigarette, perched upon her lips, only seemed to amuse the two further.

"Well I like it," Laura spoke- looking satisfied with her answer for the time being.

"You referred to her name as arcane," Monet reminded.

"Well yes, but that was in reference to the unit, not the person," Laura playfully chided- earning herself an elbow to the ribs from her twin.

Oh, these two were definitely going to be fun.

* * *

"Fahrenheit!"

She looked up at the call of her name, although it was barely heard over the echo of the heavy footsteps storming up the winding staircase.

Laura and Monet, each on one side, leaned forward out of curiosity- no longer fearful of accompanying presences, a habit that had been quick to break with them. After a delightful round of two hundred questions about anything, and everything, ranging from the Commonwealth, to Goodneighbor, to Fahrenheit's own story and interests, the two had insisted that Fahrenheit sit with them rather than away from them. And after she refused to budge with the first request, the two relocated themselves to join her on her couch instead- sandwiching her between them.

She swore she might've gotten whiplash from having to turn her head from one woman to the other with all the questioning between them.

She gave brief, brisk answers, just enough to answer the questions, which seemed to be good enough for them.

Fahrenheit watched as the Railroad Heavy stormed into the room, both out of breath and a little more than on the sweaty side.

"Have you seen-"

And Glory stopped mid-sentence as her eyes landed on the three of them, as her eyes landed on Fahrenheit, and then moved to the two women in Institute rags surrounding her. The recognition didn't take long to set in. The Heavy gave a hard sigh and wiped her hand across her brow, pushing her wet bangs out of her face as a quiet laugh came to her next.

"Never mind then, it seems like you have the situation handled here- sharing a little ménage à trois, are we?"

Fahrenheit frowned slightly at the light accusation, which only spurred a quick grin on Glory's lips.

"Oh, are you two twins as well? You look so similar," Laura spoke as she looked from one to the other, back and forth again.

A... noticeable trait to take in- one that had been brought up with the two of them before.

"No," Fahrenheit answered, cutting off Glory before the woman could speak instead. "The differences between us are quite obvious- after all, her nose is much bigger."

The well-concealed tease spurred a frown from the Heavy, although it was hardly noted as Glory quickly recovered and smiled back at her- falsely sweet, and intimidating. "Yes, but your head is _much_ bigger than mine."

Laura and Monet giggled as Fahrenheit barely reacted to the insult, although the corners of her lips twitched just slightly.

"Yeah, my tits are too," she retorted, before she loosely gestured to the women seated on either side of her. "Looking for your lost cargo?"

Glory seemed well to shovel their half-assed insults under the bridge for the time being. "Yeah, I was convinced that Dez was gonna kill me," she nodded, before she turned her attention to the Synthetic twins. "You guys didn't have much trouble getting here, did you? Did you get hurt?"

"We're fine, do not worry," Monet assured, before she lightly patted the gun at her side. "I once trained to work Security until I was switched over to Inventory instead. I still retained some of my training- although not a lot, nor quite enough for this place, but it kept us alive."

"Well I've got you covered from here," Glory assured, before she briefly clapped and rubbed her hands together. "It'll be getting late soon, and I need to get you guys holed up somewhere for the night. Doctor Amari is just down the street, but I know her schedule is pretty locked until tomorrow. She might still have some room for you guys to stay there though- or at least Irma might."

"There's plenty of beds upstairs if you need 'em," Fahrenheit offered, taking one last drag from her third cigarette, before she snuffed it out on her armored chest plate. "Some spare clothes too."

"Depends on if that Ghoul Mayor of yours is coming home tonight," Glory replied.

Fahrenheit replied with a brief frown. "He's out of town for now, and won't be back for a few days at least," she answered, flicking the cigarette butt into the ashtray nearby. "And even if he comes back early, I'll just kick him out- it wouldn't be the first time."

"Why am I not surprised by this?" Glory remarked with a brief shake of her head, before she turned her attention back to the synthetic twins. "Alright, well since we seem to have such a gracious host, it looks like you guys are staying here for the night then- if you don't mind."

"It is better than the places we have been staying at," Laura answered.

"Plus Miss. Fahrenheit has been a wonderful host to us," Monet added.

Glory chuckled and looked the room over for a moment. "Alright, well hopefully Dez won't mind the... less than Railroad-approved sleeping conditions, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Let's get you guys situated, and get you some new clothes- I used to wear that uniform so I know that it sucks."

Fahrenheit pushed herself to her feet, one hand running itself through her thin hair. "If the clothes upstairs don't fit, I know Daisy has some more in stock- just tell her it's official business and to put it on Hancock's tab."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate it," Glory grinned.

"I'll give you guys some space to work out your business," Fahrenheit continued, as she started out of the room- one hand lightly catching Glory's arm as she walked by. "I'm gonna get a drink."

* * *

Fahrenheit downed the last bit of liquor in her glass, before she dropped it back onto the counter and motioned to Whitechapel Charlie for a refill.

Which, of course, the foul-mouth Mr. Handy was all the more willing to do.

Never was one to cut drunk patrons off, not when a few more caps in the bucket were at stake.

For once though, the Third Rail was on the empty-side, making it quieter than usual, which was a little odd. The place was usually always booming with patrons and customers, with loud conversations and arguments- as well as the occasional bar fight. But for now, other than Ham at the front, and Whitechapel Charlie behind the counter, the only other occupants were a sleeping couple curled up together on one of the recliners.

Even the bar's usual spot of entertainment was missing, which was even odder- but the singer might've just been on her break for the time being, especially with the traffic so low.

She might even be off singing lullabies to Irma.

"Put this one on my tab, Charles."

Fahrenheit felt the weight of someone's arm on her shoulder, and glanced up to see the red-dressed singer herself leaning against her. Bright-red lips turned into a soft smile against a warming face. "You should be glad I'm letting you keep the arm," Fahrenheit remarked, garnering a soft laugh from the woman.

"You're a real sweet talker, Fahren'," Magnolia smiled, before she moved to slide onto the open stool next to her.

Fingers lightly brushing down her arm as the singer did so.

Fahrenheit watched as the woman turned so that she was leaning with her back against the counter, elbows propped up on the edge of it. It was a very relaxed, sort of inappropriate posture given how the woman usually portrayed herself, but... as of lately, she seemed to be opening up and becoming more relaxed. Given her actual name, her actual number, perhaps the woman too was glad that the Institute was gone- glad to be rid of fuzzy memories of a time long ago. Glad to be rid of a time before music gave her something to live for.

"Aren't you supposed to be on stage?" Fahrenheit questioned, looking away just long enough to catch her second drink sliding down the countertop, before she turned back to the singer.

"I was taking my break," Magnolia answered. "Had to escort some people back to their rooms- those little Heavies of ours sure do like to drink."

Fahrenheit frowned slightly at the remark. "If they're bothering you-"

Magnolia gave another soft laugh in response, a subtle hand on Fahrenheit's forearm- an even softer squeeze. "No, no, sweetheart, they're fine. If anything, even when a little tipsy they're still more courteous than most of our patrons here on a good day. I just got them to their rooms and sang them a little melody or two to get them to sleep easier. Music is a better sleep aid than liquor but I know how their business around here is. Can't fault them for wanting a few hours to forget. And I don't mind giving a private show every now and again- although Clair likes to complain about the noises from time to time."

"I'll take care of her."

"She's running a business, and I can understand a working girl," Magnolia assured, before fingers moved down to brush over Fahrenheit's. "How about your working girl? How's she doing?"

Fahrenheit gave a subtle shrug and picked up her glass for a quick sip. "She just picked up a pair of runaways," she answered. "Was going to take them to Dr. Amari, but figured it was too late, and the woman's too booked for the night. So they're staying at the State House tonight while Hancock's away. Should be safe enough to keep the three of them out of trouble."

"And close enough for you to keep an eye on them," Magnolia added.

Something like that.

Fahrenheit took another sip of her drink, about the same time she heard a set of footsteps loudly coming down the stairs behind them.

A few more patrons for tonight, although it might also be late enough for another wave of Railroad members to come in.

"Miss. Fahrenheit!"

Fahrenheit heard Magnolia giggle next to her, before she turned on the bar stool and watched as both Monet an Laura, as well as Glory, emerged from the stairs and walked into the open bar. The twins seemed in awe at their surroundings, stopping long enough to look at and examine the bar's rather... odd decorations. They moved from one decoration to the other in perfect sync, pointing and chatting about each piece- easily having forgotten about Fahrenheit to begin with.

Meanwhile Glory offered her a sheepish grin as the Heavy made her way to the bar.

"They insisted," Glory started, "and who am _I_ to deny someone, especially a Synth, a good time."

The woman was a hard ass on the outside and on the inside, but she was a damn bleeding heart for any Synth, which made perfect sense. The woman worked around humans for the most part, and rarely got to interact with other Synths- not before the mind wipe anyways. At least, that was the case before the Institute got blown to sky-high. Fahrenheit was certain that the woman was enjoying her work more now, especially since she was working with rescuing Synths, rather than clearing pathways for them. It was a more personal affair, one that probably had her trading stories with each and every Synth she came across.

"It's their first day in the Commonwealth, let's get them buzzed," Fahrenheit remarked, before she motioned for Whitechapel Charlie once more. "Three more beers."

"Put those on my tab as well," Magnolia added, before she got to her feet. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll be sure to give these girls a show they won't soon forget."

"Thanks, Mags," Glory spoke, watching as the singer stepped off and disappeared into her private room just across from her usual stage. The Heavy turned her attention back to Fahrenheit as she took the newly opened stool next to her. "For your information though, they've been in the Commonwealth for three weeks now, and we've just now managed to track them down."

"So they've probably gotten buzzed before then, huh?" Fahrenheit questioned, catching the slight exasperated tease Glory shot her in response. She watched as Whitechapel Charlie dropped off the three beers, before she pushed one into Glory's hands and picked up the other two- carrying her own glass in the hook of her fingers. Getting to her feet, Fahrenheit walked over to where Monet and Laura were eyeballing a half-melted statute that Hancock had found, and insisted that it would look great in the dark lighting.

And it did, simply because one couldn't see the true monstrosity that it really was.

"Here is your official welcoming to Goodneighbor," she started, hearing the set of footsteps that came soon after.

"Just a warning, this is real beer, not that synthetic shit they grow in the labs," Glory warned, quick to follow up.

"Oh?" Laura questioned as she took the offered bottle. "We weren't allowed to drink the alcoholic beverages that were synthetically produced," she started, as she turned the bottle around in her hands a few times. "But... if one were to remark on its hypothetical flavor, it tasted like razor grain and salt water."

Glory gave a brisk laugh in response, and somehow Fahrenheit knew that the Heavy knew exactly what kind of taste that Laura was describing.

"Yeah, it tasted like shit," Glory nodded, before she lightly shook her own beer bottle. "This stuff, however, is brewed out of the proper ingredients, and not something created by dirt and Science."

"It's still not too far off from razor grain and salt water though," Fahrenheit replied. "If you two can still stand after one beer, I'll let you break into the Whiskey later."

" _Fahrenheit_ -"

* * *

"I told you they had too much."

Fahrenheit chuckled lightly as she light up a smoke- the last of her pack for the night. She would have to make a run down to Daisy's in the morning, and listen to yet another lecture about how smoking was bad- and that she had enough smoke in her lungs to last a lifetime. "Yeah, maybe, but when you're used to seeing people get blacked out wasted in the street, this is sort of refreshing," she remarked, taking the first drag, before she pointed her cigarette to the nearby sleeping duo.

Laura and Monet were currently curled up together on one of the old spare mattresses, passed out after maybe one too many drinking games. In Fahrenheit's defense, the two were eager to learn and adapt to their new home, and if doing so included drinking, than they were willing to do so. Not to mention Fahrenheit knew plenty of drinking games, one of which included drinking to certain lyrics in Magnolia's songs, which was the deadliest of the games.

She warned the two to take it slow, but after awhile, no one was counting shots anymore.

Laura had warmed up to the home-brewed beer from the first sip, while Monet seemed to prefer the hard liquor instead.

"They're going to be so hungover tomorrow," Glory spoke with a hefty sigh in her voice- one hand rubbing at the back of her neck.

"Do Synths even get hangovers?" Fahrenheit questioned.

Glory gave a brief shrug in response. "It's the same with humans; some of us do, some of us don't. I have yet to get a hangover, and I've gone drinking with you before, but I have seen other Synths get them. I guess it's all based on chemical reactions in the brain or whatever." A brief pause before the woman gave a long groan. "Dr. Amari can't do a clean memory wipe if there's booze in the brain- it's too risky. She's going to kill me."

"Alright, so push off the memory wipe," Fahrenheit offered, catching the side-eye that Glory shot her without her necessarily looking back at the Heavy. "Look, just let them have their fun now- things don't always get easy after this point," she continued, before she stepped back and headed back down the stairs, going back to the common room. It was late, but not late enough for her to attempt sleep- not even with the odd amount of booze in her system.

She was a little too much of a heavy-weight for her wallet sometimes.

Collapsing back onto the couch, she watched as Glory hit the bottom of the stairs after her.

"I take it you don't report back until you got them with you," Fahrenheit spoke.

"Yeah, I have to check them in with Dr. Amari, get them checked out, and cleaned up, and then let the runners take it from there," Glory nodded, running a hand through her white hair as she strolled in. "I don't normally do Synth retrieval, but since Charmer's got most of the Commonwealth in her pocket, we've seen less Raiders and Super Mutants lately. It's been easier on us Heavies, but now we're having to run around-the-clock shifts to retrieve Synths- which is different from just clearing paths for them. It's not hard work by any means, hell it's easier than the work before, but it's a little difficult at times when you're trying to juggle multiple Synths at once."

"You did pretty well with these two," Fahrenheit remarked,"- only because I did most of the work."

Glory snorted and dropped down next to her on the couch, elbowing her lightly in the ribs as she did so. "I would have been there within the hour," she insisted. There was a moment of quiet before the woman gave a heavy sigh and slumped down against the tattered cushions, sinking into what little remained of the couch's support. "Now I'm thinking that _I_ had too much to drink."

"The night's barely started," Fahrenheit remarked, watching as the Heavy pinched the bridge of her nose, "- maybe you'll be more fun now."

"Ha, a-ha, _ha_ ," Glory mocked as she slung her arm over the back of the couch.

Fahrenheit felt how the Heavy's fingers eventually moved from squeezing the cushion to playing with the tips of her red locks. She ignored it at first, and felt the woman move to run her fingers through the locks instead, giving a few slow strokes, before Glory tugged lightly at the tips of them. It was enough to pull her attention this time, allowing her to take note of the slight grin on the woman's lips.

"What's with the face?" Fahrenheit questioned, although knowing well of where the answer would lead.

Glory chuckled lightly before the woman leaned forward, and moved her arm to hook across the back of Fahrenheit's shoulders- pulling the redhead in towards her. "Come here, you asshole," she grinned, as she brought Fahrenheit's lips to her own in a simple warm embrace. "I've been dying to do that all night."

The subtle touch was barely even a scratch of what had been going through Fahrenheit's mind.

Two weeks gone, and this was the first moment they had together.

The first moment they had had at all really.

"Well now if we're going to talk about things we've been wanting to do all night," Fahrenheit mused as she leaned in for another kiss- one in which Glory graciously gave in to. The Heavy felt warm against her lips once more, but her fingers, her body, were itching for more. Fahrenheit twisted herself towards Glory before she pushed herself against the woman- pushing the both of them flat onto the cushions of the couch. She kissed the Heavy firm and heartily, hearing the barely mumbled laughter that came from underneath Glory's lips.

Fahrenheit felt the woman's hands clap themselves against her jaw, fingers digging into her, before the digits moved to rake through her thin hair- fingertips pressed tight against her scalp.

Glory never made business with being gentle.

"How long is Hancock supposed to be gone?" Glory muttered between the rough embraces between them.

"Not long enough," Fahrenheit replied, settling on top of the Heavy, before she pushed her knees up to give herself more space. She felt the weight of Glory's legs as they hooked onto the backs of her thighs in response. "But long enough for this."

"Good."

Armor clattered loudly onto the floor- somehow avoiding the risk of waking someone up.

Clothing came open and apart under eager, mildly uncoordinated hands.

Under quiet laughs that smelt like beer, various hard liquors, and dirty drinking glasses- and one too many cigarettes. It carried a quiet hum from the songs that Magnolia had entertained them with- keeping Laura and Monet thoroughly engaged throughout the night. Keeping Fahrenheit and Glory engaged in the way the woman slowly swung and rocked her hips with each ballad she sang out.

Even Ham himself had stepped down into the bar to see what the commotion was all about- surprising the Ghoul bouncer with the fact that there were only five of them down there.

(The snoozing couple from before had left halfway through the party).

A little too much to drink, and a little too much empty space might've been too much for everyone involved.

But it made for a hell of a time- enough so that Fahrenheit really didn't want to see what Magnolia's open tab looked like now.

Fahrenheit kissed her way across Glory's dark skin, making her way down along the woman's chest, her ribs, and stomach. She felt scars, old and new, against her lips, against her tongue. She had gotten to know the older ones, the older wounds, and could still hear the laughed stories behind each one. But she was still in need of getting acquainted with the new scars; the ones that had threatened to tear the Heavy apart, bullet for bullet, rib for rib.

Sometimes Fahrenheit could still feel the cold chill of the catacombs on her skin when she thought about the wounds.

She could still feel the faint heat of the woman's fevered skin against a sweat-damp mattress.

Could still count the days marked out on an old calendar nearby until the woman was up and walking on her own again- until weary, tired hands were gripped tight around Whispers again.

Until the woman showed up at the door of Goodneighbor, grinning about the destruction of the C.I.T. ruins, about the smoldering debris along the coast.

Fahrenheit's hands grasped at Glory's biceps, feeling them strong, flexing underneath her palms- feeling Glory's stronger grip against her own forearms. Fingertips pressed against former bullet wounds, still pink and red in infancy; fingers curled against them, still unable to let them go.

Fahrenheit breathed her in, taking in Glory's sweat, the faint hint of someone else's blood, and the smell of grease on her skin.

She took in the heat of Whispers, of where the minigun had resided in her hands, carefully maintained and checked.

Where the grease from its barrels had been wiped off onto the Heavy's jeans, rubbing the scent of it against her thighs.

Fahrenheit kissed down along the curve of Glory's underbelly, nipping at the skin just enough to get a slight squirm out of the Heavy. The woman didn't flinch in battle, and hardly batted an eye whenever someone shouted at her; an idiot of a man made the mistake of charging Glory with a knife once, and the woman didn't so much as break a sweat when she broke the man's nose.

So to feel the synthetic woman squirm underneath her touch gave Fahrenheit a great sense of power.

Hands slid down to take Glory by the wrists, squeezing them in her hold, before Fahrenheit lead her mouth down between the woman's legs- and just the heat of her breath was enough to get the woman squirming again. Fahrenheit watched Glory over the curve of the woman's own body, watching as the Heavy tilted her head back, and feeling the tight pull of the woman's arms in her grasp. She let her lips make the motions, making empty promises as they brushed against Glory's labia, still letting the heat of her mouth form the tension.

"Fuck you."

They rarely talked in the moment- it was simply who they were in and out of the bedroom.

So the few times words were spoken, it meant something.

And those two words made Fahrenheit close her mouth against the Heavy, enveloping the woman as she let the heat of her tongue take the woman over. It wasn't much of a coup as Glory's back arched off the couch, as Glory pushed her hips back against her. And Fahrenheit grinned as she felt the pressure and weight of Glory's hips against her open mouth, feeling the woman making half the motions herself as she rocked herself against her tongue.

Fahrenheit could still remember the first time between them, in one of the dirty rooms of the Rexford- once more after one too many beers. Maybe that was just their thing: share stories of work, get half-wasted, and then fuck each other until they couldn't walk straight the next morning. Not necessarily a bad route to take, especially given their line of work.

But she remembered in the basement of the catacombs, in the cold touch of death, how they didn't share enough stories, enough beers, enough fucking between them.

The idea of death, of loss, left her wanting more.

Made her realize why every second was worth burning through.

Reminded her of why teasing wasn't something she was in to- why it always felt like it deprived the moment of what it was.

Fahrenheit drove Glory to finish as soon as she could- building the heat, the rush, that small spark of ache, before letting it spill around her as soon as the moment hit. And she watched as the Heavy partly twisted into the back cushion of the couch, using it to muffle herself to keep from drawing attention to them. After all, the door had been left open, and there were still people sleeping in the rooms above, and around them.

And absolutely nothing was stopping anyone from walking in on them.

(A thrill Fahrenheit always liked to chase when she could).

Turning her head, Fahrenheit bit into the meat of Glory's thigh, and gave a brief shake of her head- causing the thickness of the woman's skin and muscles to jiggle. It was enough to spark a brief, slightly breathless, laugh from the woman, before Glory moved her other leg over Fahrenheit's shoulder- entrapping her head between her thighs.

"Honestly, why don't we do this more often?" Glory huffed, as one hand moved to brush her wet bangs from her face.

"I'm the one with the stationary job," Fahrenheit reminded, releasing Glory's wrists from her grip, before she pushed up onto her arms- taking Glory's legs up with her.

The woman rolled her eyes at the remark. "Yeah well, you know give me a few months, maybe a year, and I'll be looking for a new gig," she chuckled.

It wouldn't be long before the Railroad business would be taken care of, when there would be no more Synths to extract and rescue. And once that point had been crossed, there was no telling what might happen with the group.

"There's always the Minutemen," Fahrenheit teased, as she settled onto her knees, Glory's legs now running parallel to her body. Her hands had moved to grab at the woman's hips, squeezing them briefly in her hold.

"The Minutemen? I don't know, with Dez hooking up with the General already, it might get awkward- or it could work out in my favor."

"See? Now you're thinking."

Glory grinned up at her, before she moved to rest her legs more comfortably against each of Fahrenheit's shoulders. "Yeah, now I'm thinking- but I'm more curious as to what you're thinking of right now."

"How about I show you instead?"

* * *

By some miracle the next morning greeted no one with a headache or hangover.

(Although it was greeted with sore thighs and knees).

Glory and the Synthetic twins headed off to Dr. Amari's after a short breakfast, a bout of brief farewells, and the promise to see Fahrenheit again as soon as they could.

Of course Fahrenheit didn't take much of it to heart. She knew well enough how the memory wipes, and the face swaps worked- mostly having overheard the process from a few too many drunk Railroad runners talking a little too loudly amongst themselves. But she shared in their discomfort of walking a fully functioning person in, and walking out with someone completely unrecognizable.

There were always questions of the morality of it, but it always came down to safety.

It wasn't her business though.

And it wasn't her call.

Fahrenheit had a few memories herself that she wouldn't mind being striped away, but they certainly weren't worth going under the knife for. And knowing Dr. Amari, of how in the zone, out of habit, the woman could be, there was no telling if the woman might get caught up in the process, get lost in the procedure, and think that she was just another Synth on the chopping board.

A rather cruel way of phrasing it, but Fahrenheit didn't have eyes that saw the subject from every point of view.

Glory skipped the memory wipe so she could remember, so she could fight in the war against the Institute.

And there were some who followed in her path, but... not every Synth was like her.

Just like with people not everyone was a designated fighter; some people preferred to forget and run away.

They were weak, and easy targets.

But it wasn't her call.

Fahrenheit went back to the streets of Goodneighbor and spent the following days keeping her eyes on the local Heavies, and patching up the few who had gotten into fights along the way home. Raiders were kicking up a storm since the Minutemen were choking them out, dwindling their numbers lower and lower. It wouldn't be long until most of the gangs were broken up, choked out, and the leftovers were left to adapt to the new world.

(She knew what that process was like after all).

It was nearly a week before she heard anything.

Glory tended to lay low, and stay committed every time a Synth was under her care- so it was a surprise that the woman had spent as much time with Fahrenheit as she had. Not that it was a bother; that kind of commitment, that level of loyalty, was hard to find now and days.

Fahrenheit was leaving the Hotel Rexford after putting a few more Heavies to bed; she could still hear Magnolia's husky voice echoing in the battered hallways behind her- singing hushed lullabies through the cracks in the walls. She had thought about getting a few beers from the Third Bar, but remembered the half-bottle of Scotch she still had back at the State House. Hancock was out again so she could drink the rest of it down in peace for once.

"Miss. Fahrenheit!"

Stopping in the middle of the street, Fahrenheit frowned at the calling of her own name behind her, before she turned to watch as two women came hurrying down the adjoining street towards her.

Two _very_ familiar-looking women.

As well as an additional woman trailing somewhat behind them.

"Fahrenheit, I hope you remember Laura and Monet," Glory started, as the three of them finally caught up with Fahrenheit; the heavy's dark lips were curled up in an amused smile. "They just moved in from the Capital Wasteland, and were thinking about scoping the area out and looking for a place to settle down."

Fahrenheit looked from one twin to the other, and to the other; there wasn't so much as a cut, a stitch, or a scar on their face- and she had gotten pretty damn good at spotting face swaps now and days. There wasn't so much as a hit of disturbance between them- they each held on to the slight bump of their noses, the slight dimple of their right cheeks, just above the corner of their lip.

She looked up and caught eyes with the amused Heavy. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Laura nodded, butting in for the time being. "We wanted to thank you for allowing us to stay with you the night before- I hope we weren't too much trouble. The Commonwealth was a bit of a further travel than we were promised, and I can't help but to think of how incoherent we must've been when we arrived at your doorstep asking for directions."

"You could've easily left us to sleep on the streets, so we are grateful to have made your acquaintance," Monet continued.

"Glad to hear it," Fahrenheit replied, going along with the fabricated story. As long as the two women were still together, as long as there were some memories, fake or not, linking them as one, than it wasn't so bad. As much as she tried to hide it, she was glad that the two women were able to stay together. "Any ideas of where you'll be planning on staying?"

"Oh, the General of the Minutemen is graciously allowing us to stay in her place in Diamond City for now," Monet answered.

"The Homerun Inn," Glory elaborated, "at least until they can find a more suitable place to stay. But I've heard that the Minutemen are spreading West towards the Mountains- it wouldn't be a bad spot to settle down in."

"No, it wouldn't be."


End file.
